Convergence
by xErisx
Summary: DMHP. When Harry decides to return for his final year of school before finding the Horcruxes, he finds things at Hogwarts changed almost beyond recognition-- including a Draco Malfoy who is willing to do anything to keep the Dark Lord from absolute power.


Harry wasn't quite sure how Hermione had convinced him to stay for his seventh year of Hogwarts. It must have happened some time during the several hours he, Ron, and Hermione had spent setting up the Weasley's yard for Bill and Fleur's wedding. He and Ron had spent nearly half an hour on the lawn, shouting spells at the pile of golden canvas that was supposed to be the tent and waving their arms in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Luna Lovegood's dancing. Hermione had stalked over, snatched out her wand and set it up with a flick of her wrist. And Harry was sure it wasn't only the fact that they couldn't set up a tent that had pushed Hermione to her decision. Neither Ron nor Harry could effectively cast a nonverbal spell and it was common knowledge that both were rubbish at potions.

She had confronted him right after the wedding and said that, under no uncertain terms, was he fit to spend months potentially camping in the wild with nothing but clothes, his wand, and whatever else she had managed to stuff into her tiny beaded bag. If he couldn't hang streamers properly, she wasn't going to let him go.

And so Harry ended up sitting alone in a compartment in the back of the Hogwarts Express, chugging towards his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ron and Hermione were still patrolling, as part of their prefect duty, and he was expecting to be alone for at least another good hour. Not that he minded. There was a lot for him to think about, between the horcruxes and all of the changes happening inside Hogwarts.

The biggest change, and the one that would bother him the most, was the appointment of Severus Snape as the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Just the thought of the greasy-haired murderer was enough to make Harry's head spin with anger and even a twinge of fear. With the ministry overtaken and death eaters planted inside the castle, the only things standing between Snape and Harry were the public outrage that would occur if he was murdered and the rest of the Hogwarts staff. He could be sure that he would be safe.

Harry sighed and pressed his face to the cool glass of his window. This was why he hadn't wanted to come back to Hogwarts. Not to mention all of the lives that would be lost while he was "brushing up his education". He had brought this point up to Hermione many times, but she had simply explained, again and again, that if he lost his life because he couldn't do a nonverbal spell many more would die.

"Not that I would be any more helpful to the wizarding world if Snape hexed me senseless during the welcoming feast," Harry muttered to himself, curling up against the window. He watched the trees fly by in a green blur, letting his thoughts relax into a meaningless buzz. He hadn't gotten much sleep over the past few days...between arguing with Hermione and worrying about finding Horcruxes while at school, he had spent most of his nights tossing and turning in his makeshift bed at the Burrow. The train was warm and the rhythm of the wheels clacking across the tracks was luring Harry away from his less-than-pleasant thoughts. By the time Hermione and Ron returned to the compartment, Harry was dead to the world in the first restful sleep he had gotten in weeks.

Draco Malfoy slid open the door to the outside of the train, wincing slightly as the wind hit him full force. He had skipped the meeting for the new Head Boys and Girls and knew that Pansy would be looking for him. He crouched down and sat down on the little platform, trying not to feel sick as he watched the tracks fly by less than two feet away. Knowing Pansy, she wouldn't give up searching. On the other hand, knowing Pansy, she probably wouldn't find him. Why Snape had made her Head Girl was beyond Draco; she wasn't the smartest or most ambitious girl in Slytherin. Her parents weren't the richest or most influential and her only ability seemed to be irritating anyone within hearing distance.

Or maybe her borderline obsessive determination.

Draco winced and slouched down further, pretending he couldn't hear his name being called through the compartments. His fingers clutched almost painfully tight to the railings separating him from the tracks. Draco was ashamed to see them shaking.

He leaned back against the train door with a sigh, closing his eyes and willing himself to loosen his grip on the railings. He hadn't felt this terrible since the night that Dumbledore died. Was killed, he reminded himself, by Severus Snape. Killed by Severus Snape and _not _by him. He could almost feel the sting of the cruciatus curse, hear the high, cold, almost gleeful voice.

_You failed me, Draco Malfoy._

Draco was able to keep silent through three curses before he broke. He had begged him to stop, pleading that Dumbledore had died in the end, that all that mattered was that he was out of the way. Voldemort had just smiled. Reminded him that no matter if Dumbledore was dead or not, Draco had still disobeyed his orders.

_Just like your father._

But he was not his father. And he would prove it.

Draco lost count of the curses as one seemed to meld into the other and he could no longer hear, but only see the words slip from white lips. He refused to make a sound because he knew that that was what Voldemort was looking for-- a scream, pleading for mercy, promises to never to disobey again.

Draco sighed heavily, pulling his knees up to his chest, and let the crisp fall wind hit his face. He hadn't given in, though it had reduced him to a shivering wreck on the Riddle Mansion floor. Voldemort had given him orders to lay low in school, then left, leaving him to collect himself and get to King's Cross Station. He had nearly splinched himself trying to apparate and had to chase the train as it pulled out of the platform. And after the summer, he had barely heard the laughter of the students watching him stumble after the Hogwarts Express.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt. There was fear, that he would do _something _wrong and give Voldemort another excuse to torture him. There was relief that he was away from Death Eaters and prisoners and blood and pain. Hogwarts would be different this year, there was no doubt about it. No matter how much it changed, however, Draco would be more safe than he had been in months. He could focus on school work and try to ignore the war like he had been ordered to. He wasn't even sure why Voldemort hadn't simply killed him, but he wasn't going to complain.

The one thing that worried him most wasn't even Voldemort. He could do nothing about it, if Voldemort decided to kill him. He had no say in anything, so he might as well stop worrying for the moment. No, what worried him most was Harry Potter. He had heard that he would be returning to school, quashing the rumors that he would be quitting to chase down and fight to Dark Lord. Or hide, as some had whispered darkly. Potter and his friends were the only students who knew of Draco's involvement in Dumbledore's death. Would Potter take it into his own hands to get revenge?

Draco sneered into the wind. No, Gryffindors didn't think of things like revenge. The prat probably felt bad for him.

He winced. He didn't need Harry Potter's pity.

The weather was warm, despite the wind, and Draco's eyes were slipping closed. The train rocked gently back and forth, slowly relaxing Draco from the stress that had held every nerve in his body captive since the beginning of the summer before his sixth year. Still clutching the railing with one hand, Draco collapsed into sleep.

The Hogwarts Express ground to a stop several hours later and many degrees cooler. Harry found himself being shaken awake by a very frazzled Hermione.

"Harry..."

He groaned and turned over, his fuzzy brain not yet willing to wake up and deal with the real world.

"_Harry!_"

This time, a sharp smack met his shoulder and he reluctantly opened his eyes and blinked sleepily up at Hermione. Though her tone had been sharp, her gaze was soft. She knew perhaps better than anyone how much pressure Harry was under. The wizarding world saw him as a savior, a tool to a Voldemort-free world. Not many bothered to think what Harry would suffer along the way.

"Get up, Harry. Ron is holding a carriage, but the teachers will make him go without us unless we hurry."

Harry shot to his feet, wincing as he lifted down his trunk. "Where were you two? Your prefect meeting didn't last the whole ride last time."

Hermione slid open the compartment door and the two of them hurried down the hall.

"Extra safety measures were put in place this year," She said impatiently, as if she expected Harry to have guessed. "The Head Boys and Girls are expected to know them inside out and backwards. Tonks and Kingsly drilled all of us until even Ron could get it right."

Harry nodded absently. Even though the ministry had fallen, the Order had still managed to keep several of its members as guards around the castle. How they had managed with Snape as the new Headmaster, Harry had never been told.

He noticed that Hermione had been watching him carefully as they walked and gave her a little smile.

She didn't return it, instead saying casually, "Malfoy wasn't at the meeting."

Harry froze. He had found himself thinking of Malfoy several times over the summer. The pity he had felt after his last sight of him fleeing the Astronomy Tower had not dwindled, and as angry at Draco as he was, he was still afraid for his safety. Annoying git that he might be, Malfoy was still just a kid who had been raised into a nightmare. Harry had tried not to contemplate what kinds of punishment he had gone through for not finishing off Dumbledore with his own hands.

"Do you think he's coming back at all?" Harry questioned.

Hermione looked at Harry sternly. "I don't know, Harry. And I don't want you to worry about it either." Harry gave a non-committal grunt.

Hermione came to a sudden halt and wheeled about to face him.

"There isn't anything we can do, whether he comes back or not," she said softly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You can't save everyone."

They stood there for a moment, Hermione's eyes searching Harry's face in the darkness. A heartbeat longer and Harry pulled away from the hand on his shoulder and smiled at her.

"No, I suppose not," he admitted. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't try.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and caught up one of Harry's hands in her own. "Good, Harry. Just focus on researching horcruxes and mastering those nonverbal spells. You'll be able to hang streamers properly in no time."

Harry laughed and the atmosphere relaxed considerably as they climbed down from the train.

"I don't know how that'll do us much good when we're trying to kill Voldemort, but okay."

They hurried through the darkness along the side of the train, towards the lights bobbing in the distance, where Harry and Hermione knew the students would be waiting to take their respective transportation to the castle. They were about to break into a sprint when a flash of white caught Harry's eye.

Harry spun around without thinking and nearly tripped over his trunk. He grabbed Hermione's shoulder to steady himself and squinted into the night. He shushed Hermione as she started to speak. Through the darkness and light mist that still billowed from the train, Harry could just barely make out a white-blonde head of hair he knew could only belong to one person.

Wordlessly, Harry met Hermione's eyes. Her look was questioning and weary. She glanced over at the sleeping figure and made to take a step towards him, but was stopped by a firm grip on her wrist. Harry nodded to his trunk and pushed it towards her. She opened her mouth again but stopped at the hard look Harry gave her. He pushed his trunk at her again and gave her a reassuring smile. Hermione seized the trunk, gave Harry a look that was simultaneously dirty and concerned, and stalked towards the waiting carriages.

Harry watched until she disappeared into a carriage before turning back to the blonde perched on the back of the train. He approached cautiously, watching for any signs of movement. What in the name of Merlin was Draco Malfoy doing on the back of the Hogwarts Express? As Harry moved closer and Draco's form became clearer, he felt his stomach turn. For a moment, he had almost thought he was dead.

Draco was still curled tightly into a ball beneath his Hogwarts cloak. His face was gaunt, his skin so pale it was almost translucent. There were bruised, purple circles beneath his eyes that made it look like he hadn't slept all summer. His hair was the same brilliant white-blonde, but hung limply in a fringe around his face, reaching almost past his chin. He looked older, but somehow more vulnerable than Harry had ever seen him.

Harry took another step closer and was relieved to see the gentle rise and fall of Draco's chest that proved that he really was just sleeping. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and touched the long, aristocratic fingers that still clutched the railings with a surprising strength. They were deathly cold. Harry let his fingers slide up Draco's arm and to his cheek. The skin was soft, but just as ice cold as his fingers.

Images rose unwonted into Harry's mind. Draco laying on the floor in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, roses of blood blooming across his starched white shirt. His slate gray eyes no longer demanding and imperious, but bloodshot and defeated as he lay there on the cold, wet tile. And Harry had done it. He shook off the image and tried to think of the sneering, spoiled brat that he had hated so easily. It was hard to believe they were the same person.

"Malfoy?" he said softly. His voice sounded small inside the dark night air. He let his hand drop from Draco's cheek and shook his shoulder gently. There was no response. Cursing, Harry pulled out his wand. If he couldn't get Malfoy up, people were going to think that Harry had attacked him, like a twisted flashback to his second year at Hogwarts. Except instead of hunting muggleborns, he would would no doubt be after purebloods or something like that. Still muttering curses at nothing in particular, he flicked his wand gently and a wave of hot air wafted from the tip and over Malfoy's sleeping form. He was rewarded by a small noise of pain issuing from almost-blue lips. Another flick of his wand and Draco's eyes shot open.

Draco jerked awake, tried to stand, and immediately fell back. His head was pounding with a force that had him seeing stars. When had he fallen asleep? What a great fucking way to start off the school year. No doubt Filch would have his head for being late. Slowly, as his head cleared and the pain subsided, he opened his eyes again and tried to determine the source of the heat that had woken him.

"Potter?" he croaked. Wincing at the dry, wavering sound of his voice, he cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you doing?"

Harry watched him in silence for a moment, his face carefully blank, before offering him his hand. Draco looked at it suspiciously, then took a cautious hold and let Harry haul him off of the train and onto his feet.

Draco slowly released Harry's hand. He kept his eyes locked firmly with the other boy's as they contemplated each other. Draco forcibly smoothed his expression into one of indifference as he weighed his options.

All of the carriages and boats had left for the castle and not even Filch or a teacher could be seen. He could have Potter unconscious, disarmed and to the Dark Lord in minutes. His family would be forgiven, their power restored, and Voldemort could finally rise to full power. His hand almost made a move for his wand. He could see Potter doing the same.

But he stopped.

"I asked you what you're doing here, Potter," he said again. He was glad to hear the old malice back, though the back of his mind reminded him that he didn't feel particularly malicious.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I fancied giving the mosquitoes a snack, Malfoy." He could feel his pity for Draco quickly being replaced by annoyance. A hand lingered casually by his wand. If Draco's actions at the top of the astronomy tower last year were anything to go by, he was safe. However, he was still fully aware that he was alone in the woods with the son of a Death Eater in disgrace. After being attacked by a book, a teacher and rat, he had learned to be careful of who he trusted.

"Believe it or not, I didn't want to let you fall off the back of the train and break your neck when it left," he said with a patience he did not feel. "Now let's head back to school before Filch looses his head. Lumos." A beam of light lit from his wand and he turned in the direction of the castle.

Draco hesitated for the briefest of moments, then fell into step beside him. He kept his hand closed around his wand, but didn't take it from his pocket." I didn't need your help, Potter."

Harry suppressed an irritated snort. Maybe he should have just left Draco to make the trip back to London. After all, he been all too happy to leave Harry in that position a year earlier. Not just leave him there, _put _him there. Along with a bloody nose and the smallest of chances of being found. Whipping around to face him, Harry planted himself firmly in front of Malfoy.

"You were asleep on the back of a train. It's a miracle you didn't freeze or fall off on the trip here, and no matter how much I hate you, I don't want you to die. Not that way." His voice was even and calm, but his eyes spoke in a way stronger than his words ever could have. Harry could not bother with school boy rivalries when he should be trying to defeat Lord Voldemort.

Feeling a strange loss, Draco stared into Harry's intense green eyes for a moment, then nodded. He would not curse Potter, at least not for the sake of their six year grudge. It felt like the last of his innocence was being taken from him. There could no more Gryffindor and Slytherin. There was just Light and Dark, and Draco didn't know what side to pick. When Draco finally pulled his gaze away from Potter, they fell into an easy step side by side and followed the path that the carriages had.

"What were you doing back there anyway, Malfoy?" Harry asked. Draco could tell that he was trying to keep the conversation away from the war. He didn't really know what else he _could _do, so he went along with it. Though to answer Potter's question fully, the war would be dragged into it. Well, he could abbreviate.

"Hiding from Pansy," he said with a grimace. That was mostly the truth.

"Why?" Harry questioned further, "I thought you two were going out. She could hardly take her hands off you last year."  
Damn. Draco signed and fixed his eyes on Hogwarts, visible even from that distance. That was _not _a discussion he would be having with _Potter, _of all people. "She wasn't my type. And I wanted to sleep."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "You went outside to sleep?! Why didn't you find an empty compartment?"

Draco flushed. "Pansy would have found me. She's very....determined. And I didn't want to take any chances." He wouldn't tell him that he was afraid to face anyone in Slytherin house. There were bound to be too many questions, too many people seeking ways to get into the Dark Lord's favor. He saw Potter make a move to open his mouth again and spoke up again before Harry could. "You haven't been the only busy one this summer, Potter. And you're not the only one with people to fear."

Harry just gave him nod and lapsed off into thought. They walked in comfortable silence to the gates, where they found an irate Filch waiting to escort them to the welcoming feast. Neither of them paused before they strode off to their separate tables.

Ron and Hermione both burst into worried whispers as Harry came and sat beside them, but he gave them looks that clearly said that he could tell them later. They ate in near silence, Harry's eyes straying often to the Slytherin table. Once, he looked up straight into gray eyes that flashed silver in the candlelight of the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy sat virtually alone at the Slytherin table, eating in a robotic silence. He glanced up and, for a split second, met Harry's eyes. A shiver suddenly ran down his spine as he saw the burning intensity within the other's eyes. Maybe Voldemort really would meet his downfall at the hands of the Boy Who Lived. All that Draco knew for sure was that he treated his rivals better than The Dark Lord treated his most devoted servants. And that alone could be enough to turn him.


End file.
